Leveling the Playing Field
by freeze1
Summary: Sango worries that Miroku's feelings towards her are more platonic than romantic, and he decides to prove her wrong. Contains upagainsttree!kissage, and MirSan goodness.


A/N: Well, I was thinking about this idea when I fell asleep last night, and the next morning after waking up and reading some of my history book, I managed to throw the book down and write it. It sounded a lot better in my head, to tell you the truth. For some reason, the writing was better in my head. But oh well, I figure this'll work well enough. I've always wondered about Sango and Miroku, and how even though they've pledged to love each other, they rarely hug, or hold hands, or anything, and about _why_ they're doing it, and about whether that'll ever change? So this is what I made of that.

Disclaimer: Rumiko Takahashi owns Inuyasha and all of his friends an enemies.

Leveling the Playing Field

To his credit, he _did_ look rather apologetic when she stumbled upon him in one of the local bars. Of course, perhaps "stumbled upon" was the wrong way to put it, seeing as she had stormed out of the camp with the sole purpose of finding him and dragging his sorry ass back where it belonged.

Not that she was bitter, or anything.

He had immediately dislodged himself from the grip of an intensely made-up girl, (who, Sango noted with disgust, giggled flirtatiously the entire time and sort of negated the effect of Sango's icy glare), and began spouting out some excuses about how he was tricked, how all he had wanted was some sake to help cure his aching back, and this lovely girl (he had been about to say "woman", but decided against it) was merely helping him decide what to order. He hadn't, you know, asked her to bear his child, or anything.

It was at this point in the explanation that the girl let out an extremely high-pitched squeal of "Houshi-samaaa!", and Miroku's face slowly turned from sorry to just plain guilty.

On her way back to the camp, (in her anger, she couldn't think of one appropriate response, and had simply turned and left), Sango realized that she would probably have to learn how to deal with these situations in a bit more of a dignified fashion. While it was always satisfying to see the terrified look on his face whenever she blew up at him, all it seemed to do was inflate his ego even more.

So, she had decided to change tactics, and was completely ignoring the monk trotting along a few feet behind her, continuously shouting her name.

She sped up, crunching the fallen leaves of the path with quick, forceful steps, all the while muttering a long chain of colorful words she had picked up from Inuyasha somewhere along the road. This was so routine. It hadn't happened for a week or so, but that was only because they hadn't been in contact with civilization for a week or so.

She turned the corner after hearing another whiny "Sangooooo!", and quickened her pace again. For some reason, she didn't particularly feel like turning around and beating the very life out of his body. Perhaps, she considered, she had just gotten _used_ to being angry? Perhaps this was all so routine now, that her lashes against him had turned into more of a show than an actual display of emotions? Perhaps she had become so used to his behavior, that she didn't expect anymore from him, the man she was one day supposed to marry.

It was infuriating. She really should have left him by now.

She inhaled sharply as she registered the thought, and for some reason, it scared her. For some ungodly reason, the thought of leaving him was more terrifying than the thought of him with all the women in the entire world.

Unsure of whether she was angry at him or herself, and even _more_ frustrated that she couldn't come to a decision, Sango continued her decisive march forward, completely unaware that during her long-winded thought process, the object of her ponderings had managed to catch up.

"Sango, come on, let's talk about this!" He exclaimed, startling her so badly that she had to force herself not to turn and punch him in the gut on reflex. "It was a mistake! Honest, it was!"

She didn't feel the need to look at him. If she did, she would only see that wide, mask-like smile, a combination of innocent and lecherous that only he could achieve. She opted for concentrating on a distant tree, instead.

"Sango, really, I'm sorry!" He professed, practically jogging in order to keep up with her. "Look, I'll make it up to you. If you want to go grope a village man, that's fine with me! Okay? Okay?"

"Maybe I will," she answered swiftly, turning on her heels and walking back in the direction of the village. She didn't really mean it, she was just trying to get him to stop following her, but she had to admit that it _was_ a amusing to see his shocked expression out of the corner of her eye.

There was a slight pause, and then he was at her side again. "Okay, actually it's _not_ okay with me, but I can still make it up to you somehow! Tell me how, okay?" She wanted to make a smart retort, to make his toes curl with jealousy. But really, she wasn't that kind of girl. She _knew_ that she couldn't play on his level, so there was no point in trying.

"Sango, _please_…" His voice was becoming more desperate with every step they took. Sango wasn't surprised; he obviously didn't want to waste all day on a petty fight between them. Kagome-chan was bringing back Ramen from her world, and he probably wanted some before Inuyasha ate it all.

"It's fine," she said, trying to keep the bitterness out of her voice as much as possible. "You can go back, that's fine. I'm going to…" She trailed off. To what?

_To think about why I put up with you? To think about why I would miss you so much if you went away? To think about why you're with me, even though you've always treated me as more of a sister than anything else?_

Given this train of thought, it was safe to say that she was surprised when Miroku, in a most un-brotherly fashion, suddenly appeared in front of her, grabbed her firmly by the shoulder, shoved her back against a nearby tree, and without a blink of hesitation was kissing her vigorously.

She had imagined their first kiss before, more times than she would admit. Although he groped her at every available moment, he had always been very hesitant about showing her any real signs of affection. She could count the number of times he had held her on one hand. Thus, she had expected that she would have to wait for this until some tremendous moment, such as Naraku's defeat, or perhaps even their wedding day.

She was certainly not expecting that one day, she would randomly be shoved up against a tree and kissed senseless. But, of course, that seemed to be what was happening.

Her eyes were closed tightly, her hands by her sides, and she was honestly convinced that her heart had stopped beating. His hands trapped her against the tree, and for some reason all she could think about was what she should be doing with her own hands. Shouldn't she be participating? How exactly _did_ one participate in this kind of event? Were his eyes open, or closed?

After a few seconds, he pulled away, his short breaths tickling her nose. She gathered the courage to open her eyes, and froze completely when she saw the look on his face.

He was frowning. Breathing heavily, forehead crinkled, and frowning. _Oh god, _she thought, _I did it wrong. There was a mistake, he didn't want to kiss me after all…_

"I'm sorry," Miroku finally said, his voice low and painfully attractive. Sango didn't move. An apology meant that he regretted it, that's why he had broken off so quickly.

She was on the verge of tears.

"I know that was…fast…" he mumbled, "and…I'm sorry if it made you…uncomfortable."

What mattered at this point was not _showing_ him how upset she was, she had to retain some shred of dignity, and…wait.

"What?" She whispered, her words barely audible.

"I was too forceful," he explained, and it was suddenly clear why he looked so upset. It was suddenly clear why his lips, the lips that had been on hers only moments ago, were trembling, and why he was staring at her with such an intense look in those exquisite blue eyes. Honestly, the man was either a complete lecher, or too gentlemanly for his own good. A real monster.

A gorgeous, manly, sweaty monster, that is.

"Well, we're engaged, aren't we?" She breathed. He was silent, her breath caught in her throat, and she became fully aware exactly how loaded that question was. She had given him a way out. If he wanted it, he could take it. If he only agreed to marry her because he felt sorry for her, or because he loved her in a non-romantic way but was too kind to admit it, he could end things politely right then.

God, she hoped he wouldn't.

For ten agonizing seconds, he said nothing. His face was blank, his jaw tightened, his eyes cold and completely devoid of emotion. Then, ever so slowly, he lifted his hand and inched it towards her, a silent request. Assuming on instinct that his hand would head towards his favorite part of her anatomy, she pressed herself closer to the tree, but to her surprise, he shook his head.

"No, I won't…I just want…" She wondered whether he was as nervous as she was. After all, he didn't seem to be any more successful at forming full sentences. She nodded ever so slightly. He swallowed, and she watched, frozen to the spot, as trembling fingers floated towards her, finally brushing against her cheek.

She almost whimpered.

Slowly, his fingers moved, tracing the outline of her cheek, down to her jaw, and over her slightly bruised lips. She closed her eyes as they traveled down the side of her neck, and found his face burned into her memory, his expression more serious than she had ever seen it, his eyes never leaving hers.

She had never been more glad to have him with her, alive and well. She had never been more aware that she lived for him, would die for him.

In a wordless thank you, she moved forward to place a soft kiss on the nape of his neck. She swore she could feel him tremble, and the moment was so sacred, so intimate that she almost began to cry all over again.

In a rush of self-confidence, she brought her hips forward and pressed her entire body to his. And once again, she was back against the tree, his lips on hers, except this time, she didn't think about anything else but him, his hands in her hair, his tongue in her mouth, his stomach against hers. Her arms enclosed around his neck, pulling him closer, wanting to feel his skin against hers, to know that he was hers completely, and to let him know that she was his.

Finally he broke away, and this time there was no trace of a frown on his face.

"You're incredible, Sango," he panted, his palm resting against her cheek. She wanted to say something coy, but all she could manage was a fiery blush. She really needed to get better at this, she decided.

"Really," Miroku continued, a smile spreading across his face, "that girl at the bar has _nothing_ on you."

…On second thought, perhaps she'll just kill him, hide the body, and forget this ever happened.

A death glare and one swift stomp to the foot later, and they were in the exact same position before: her storming along, him trailing after her. The only real difference was a slightly more disheveled appearance.

"Sango! Wait! That's not what I meant!"

She groaned, and whirled around to face him, cheeks red.

"You have _horrible_ timing, you know that!"

He hung his head. "Yes, you're right."

"You're damn right I am!"

He seemed unfazed by the swearing, however, and stepped forward with a curious look in his eye.

"So, how about a deal, then?" He asked, a mischievous smile on his face. "I'll stop…"

"Being a lecher?" She offered.

"…I was going to say 'charming the ladies', but whatever works for you," he countered, "if we can keep…you know, doing this."

"This?" She raised an eyebrow. He shrugged, an almost embarrassed smile on his face, and gestured between them.

"You know. _This_."

She smiled, because really, the look on his face was priceless.

"Sure, we can do some more of _this_," she said, raising an eyebrow. "Although, seeing as I'm sure you've had more experience in _this_ area than I have, you surely won't mind if I, you know, go and experience _this_ a little more myself? There were a lot of handsome farmers in that town, after all."

She watched his face drain of color and, laughing to herself, turned around and started back for the camp, delighted to hear his footsteps on the leaves as he chased her, half pleading her to reconsider, and half muttering his _own_ chain of dirty words from the mouth that moments ago had been kissing her senseless.

True, she wasn't yet playing at his level. But she figured with all the time they were bound to spend together, she would learn how to.


End file.
